


obvious

by theAsh0



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 09:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17077973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theAsh0/pseuds/theAsh0
Summary: experimenting with one of my pet peeves.





	obvious

**Author's Note:**

> One of my pet peeves is where a character makes a deduction about another's feelings, and then that feeling is repeated from the second person’s perspective, proven right. Or, sometimes it is spoken out loud. Or, dare I say it, both.  
> If this is you don't take it personal. I’ve been guilty of this and far worse in the past.  
> But this little literary blemish does form the inspiration of this fic, so you have been warned!  
> This is only a little smutty, and fluffy, and does not really fit well with any of my other fics. So. don't try to get it. Just enjoy.

She thought it was obvious by now Vegeta disliked her. 

It was apparent by the way he kept scowling at her, from the moment she entered any room. He’d already be looking, and she’d be shocked to be the center of his anger because she had yet to do or say anything. His stare would then follow her on her errant, making her feel like an intruder in her own home. A very unwelcome one. And he’d keep staring, usually frozen in whatever he was doing before, just to bore his eyes into her with aggression. Until she beat a hasty retreat, eyes scorching her back. 

Or, how he’d side-step her in the hall like even risking a touch would burn him. Though she doubted he feared bodily harm half as much as her. No, more like catching cooties. Like she was was a carrier of some nasty, carrying disease. 

And, of course, the fact that as soon as she joined her family at the table he visibly lost his appetite. A Saiyan, unable to swallow another bite as soon as he saw her. Just sitting there, starting again, trying somewhat subvertetly to get his mouth-full down. Until he gave up and spit in a hankerchief before leaving.  It would have been funny, if it was not so terribly offensive.

 

He hated Bulma with a vengeance. 

The way she’d strut around like she owned the place, hips swaying in a very improper manner. Speaking and moving like some dancer, free and unguarded. Wide gestures, offensive in their lack of defense. Like he wasn’t right here, perfectly able to end her. 

How she’d show off her unmarred skin. Skipping around through the gardens in too short dresses showing off her long legs. Reclining in the sun in skimpy outfits called swimwear, never actually swimming. At the dinner table, the string of her dress sliding off her shoulder, suggesting without even trying. Like she wanted someone the reach out and stroke that skin. 

That hair, swirling like a storm, never the same two day in a row. Like a tempest when she cornered him, suggesting in no uncertain terms that he should at least  _ pretend _ to be able to be in the same room with her. Pushing those waving locks around him as she got into his face, the smell of her drowning all out. Her, her breath, and that  _ stupid _ blue hair. Begging him to pull it hard, bring her to her knees and.

  
  


“I loathe you.” He snarled at her. Pushing back with the ferocity he’d been feeling for far too long.

“I hate you.” He whispered in her ear, in the dark. As she kissed him in all the wrong places. Kissed him back.

“I despise you.” He told her, staring at the ceiling. With her in his arms. Laying here still, though the morning light was slowly creeping in. 

  
“Yes.” she stretched, a dry tone in her voice. “That much is  _ obvious _ by now.”


End file.
